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A zeal for New Zealand

New Zealand's two main islands offer vast stretches of coastline to explore.

Photograph by: Karen Booth
, Edmonton Journal

My first impression of this slice of pristine countryside on the South Island is that we've been transported back to the Northern Hemisphere and plopped in the middle of a dairy commercial. Lush, green meadows are a gateway to the snow-capped mountains of the Southern Alps, the vivid azure sky is only occasionally punctuated by fluffy cumulus clouds, and I half-expect Heidi to come gambolling downhill toward us, dozens of cows or goats in tow.

Turns out this really was the scene of a dairy commercial -for a Swiss company, no less -as well as various international car, beer and chocolate commercials. Not to mention select scenes from the Narnia and Lord of the Rings films, among others.

"You might want to put on some rain gear, and think about a string to keep your sunnies in place -it's gonna get wet out there," our operator with Dart River Jet Safaris advises my husband Steve and me. The fellow has a glint in his eye that I hope is merely playful, not sinister. Just days earlier, five passengers with a competing jet-boat company suffered various injuries when their boat struck some rocks in the equally shallow Lower Shotover River, which is also near the adventure playground of Queenstown.

We heed his advice about the sunglasses, but are satisfied that our own waterproof jackets and pants are up to the challenge. We'd been warned that in late November, it can still be overcast, rainy and cool in this part of the world, but by 11 a.m., it's already more than 24 C and the visibility is picture-postcard perfect.

We zip and weave our way through an intricate network of shallow, ever-changing channels on the Dart River to glimpse unspoiled areas inaccessible by other means -the waterfalls, breathtaking alps, ancient beech and podocarp forests, ferns and glacial valleys of Mount Aspiring National Park, all part of the Te Wahipounamu ("the place of greenstone") UNESCO World Heritage site.

The park's unique geographical features date back some 80 million years, when the country was part of the ancient supercontinent known as Gondwanaland. When what's now New Zealand became detached from that great land mass, many of its ancient plants and animals were able to survive and evolve in relative isolation. Today, the country boasts the world's biggest flightless parrot, the nocturnal kakapo; the only alpine parrot, the mischievous, olive-green kea; and the oldest reptile, the spinybacked, lizard-like tuatara.

Sadly, the ecosystem has been dramatically affected by the introduction of wild pigs, possums, rabbits, stoats and other creatures. Even the natural vegetation is being choked out by gorse, broom and various weeds that now infest vast tracts of land. Stoat traps back onshore are evidence that even this park is not immune.

It wasn't until we signed on for the jet-boat trip that I discovered the craft itself had been perfected by a New Zealander, a farmer and self-taught engineer named Bill Hamilton, back in 1954. A shallow river coursed through his land, and he needed a faster way to survey the property. He came up with a boat propelled by a jet of water ejected from the stern. His simple technology has evolved, much to the delight of adventure-seekers the world over. Today, these 1,000-horsepower machines are speedier than Formula One cars. In scant centimetres of water, they can execute hairpin turns, treacherously close to some rather sharp-looking rocks. Then there's the famous 360-degree Hamilton Turn, which puts the jet boat to its ultimate test and soaks at least half the craft's occupants in the process.

Hamilton never took credit for the invention, once saying, "I do not claim to have invented marine jet propulsion. The honour belongs to a gentleman named Archimedes, who lived some years ago."

There's no commercial film testament to Hamilton's creativity or humility, but there is to his fellow South Islander, Burt Munro. Just a few days earlier, Steve and I were fortunate enough to be in Munro's hometown, Invercargill, for the Burt Munro Challenge, an annual event that draws motorcycle enthusiasts from both hemispheres for five days of road, beach and speedway racing.

Munro's world records and somewhat unorthodox methods in modifying his 1920 Indian Scout were the subject of the 2005 film The World's Fastest Indian, starring Anthony Hopkins.

In 1962 at the Bonneville salt flats in northwestern Utah, Munro set a world record of 178.971 m.p.h. with his engine upgraded to 51 cubic inches (850 cc).

The following year, his bike malfunctioned while he was travelling at an estimated 195 m.p.h. Again at Bonneville in 1967, he set an under-1,000 cc record that still stands today -his engine was bored out to 58 cubic inches (950 cc) and he notched a speed of 183.59 m.p.h. At the time, Munro was 68 years old, riding a 47-year-old machine.

I don't know if they ever met, but it's curious to note these two paragons of Kiwi ingenuity were born within four months of each other in 1899 and died within three months of each other in 1978.

Abundant adventure

To this day, New Zealand is considered a mecca for adrenalin sports. (Perhaps that youthful adventureseeking is part and parcel of being the youngest country on Earth, the last land mass to be discovered.)

Though bungee jumping was practised in the South Pacific nation of Vanuatu for centuries -using vines instead of sturdy elastic cords -the first commercial bungee jump was perfected by New Zealander A.J. Hackett in the late 1980s. Skydiving, white-water rafting, zip-lining and paragliding are other popular activities here.

And then there's Zorbing. A Zorb is a large, transparent plastic ball with two skins, one inside the other. An adventure seeker, or Zorbonaut, climbs in between those skins, in an area pumped up with air to act as a shock absorber, and the three-metre ball is then rolled down the hill on a zigzag course.

If being strapped inside a Dry Zorb isn't to your liking, then slosh around unfettered inside the Wet Zorb. Not surprisingly, Zorbing was invented by North Islanders Andrew Akers and Dwane van der Sluis in 2000.

But with just 17 days to visit friends and tour all three major islands -North, South and Stewart -we opt to put any further thrill-seeking on hold and see as much of the countryside as possible, starting in Dunedin. With its Scottish place names and tartan shops, this quaint little South Island city out-Scotlands Scotland. In fact, Dunedin was the ancient name for Edinburgh.

Its much-photographed railway station alternates dark basalt with lighter Oamaru stone facings that earned its architect, George Troup, the nickname "Gingerbread George." Speaking of sweet treats, the city also offers a Cadbury chocolate factory tour.

Despite being warned against getting our hopes up for wildlifespotting, the drive from Dunedin to Invercargill through the picturesque southeastern region known as the Catlins provides us glimpses of fur seals, sea lions and Hector's dolphins, as well as birds -tuis, black oystercatchers and rare yellow-eyed penguins.

Our greatest desire is to find the iconic kiwi bird, and our best chance for spying one is on Stewart Island, where we spend one night. The hourlong passage across Foveaux Strait to Oban is notoriously rough, but we've managed a relatively smooth trip, eyes firmly glued to the horizon. The island itself is home to a scant 400 people, and more than 80 per cent of the land mass is part of Rakiura National Park ("land of the glowing skies").

The late-evening beach trip to see the kiwis is oversubscribed, but we're able to book an afternoon trip to tiny, nearby Ulva Island, a 260-hectare haven for flightless birds in general. New Zealand is home to more varieties of flightless birds than anywhere in the world. Since they had no natural predators -the country was home to just one indigenous mammal -the birds outgrew or lost the ability to fly. Thanks in large part to conservation efforts, Ulva remains a predator-free sanctuary for melodious bellbirds and tuis, as well as the more raucous kakariki and kaka, and other feathered creatures. All we have to do is scrape a foot along the mossy ground to uncover worms and insects, and the birds hop straight over to greet us.

Alas, the only kiwi we would encounter was a stuffed one in a nature display later in our journey.

Back on the South Island, we check out the glow-worm caves near Te Anau -a much smaller facsimile of the renowned Waitomo caves on the North Island -before driving 120 km to Milford Sound. The old saw about getting there being half the fun holds true this time, as the overland route is considered one of the finest alpine drives in the world. Soon we're treated to meadows filled with pink and purple lupins, forests of mountain beech, and the aptly named Mirror Lakes and Cascade Creek. Along the way, we're warned about the aforementioned parrots, the keas. You can't dismiss these intelligent and somewhat comical creatures as birdbrains, but you might want to make sure they don't strip the rubber from your vehicle's windshield wipers just the same.

Beyond the Homer Tunnel emerges the stunning Cleddau Canyon, and just 10 km from Milford is the Chasm Walk, featuring breathtaking waterfalls. Sheer, towering cliffs spring up straight from the sea.

Our cruise through Milford Sound (it's technically a fiord, rather than a sound, because it was glacially carved) features glimpses of blue penguins, and views of iconic Pembroke Glacier and Mitre Peak. The latter -which really does resemble papal headgear -is 1,682 metres, one of the highest mountains to rise directly from the ocean floor.

A match for Mordor

Maori legend has it that fiords were created not by rivers of ice, but by Tu Te Raki Whanoa, a demigod who wielded a magical adze and uttered a few incantations. New Zealand itself is known as Aoteoroa, the land of the long white cloud, and the closer we get to the open waters of the Tasman Sea, the more this description applies.

During both the drive through Fiordland National Park and our later flight from Milford to Queenstown over dark valleys and jagged summits, it becomes abundantly clear why The Lord of the Rings movies couldn't possibly have been filmed anywhere else. From my experience, no Alps, Rockies or Andes could hope to serve quite so well for double duty as Mordor or Middle-earth.

As our journey winds down, we forsake the snow and glacial ice of the South Island for the boiling mud pools, hissing geysers and sulphuric smells of Rotorua on the North Island.

The nearby Orakei Korako ("the place of adorning") caves and thermal park are the antipodean version of Yellowstone National Park, with 20 million litres of hot water flowing over silica terraces every day. Created by hydrothermal eruptions between 8,000 and 14,000 BC, the Artist's Palette is one of the most dangerous areas in the park, and visitors are urged to not stray off the marked paths. Sporadic discharges of hot water create the perfect breeding ground for multicoloured algae growth, hence the name. Along some of the paths you can spot the silver fern, one of New Zealand's emblems. The topside of the leaves may be green, but the underside has a distinctive silvery sheen.

Just a few hours' drive north of Auckland, the country's largest city, is the Bay of Islands, accessible from the resort town of Paihia. Pods of dolphins follow alongside our boat, playfully leaping from time to time. We motor toward Hole in the Rock, a natural attraction on Piercy Island, but the water's too rough today for our craft to navigate through the 64-metre arch.

Farther north still, we stroll along a mist-shrouded portion of Ninety Mile Beach, where surf from the Tasman Sea eventually meets with the Pacific Ocean, generating waves of up to 10 metres in inclement weather.

While we also enjoy golfing at Carrington Resort at Kaitaia and snapper fishing at Whatuwhiwhi, the crowning glory of our North Island trip is crewing an America's Cup 80-foot yacht, NZL41, in Auckland's Waitemata Harbour. With more than 100,000 private yachts, Auckland lives up to its nickname, City of Sails. In 1995, Team New Zealand, led by the late Sir Peter Blake, was victorious in the prestigious America's Cup, a feat that was repeated in 2000.

Although our first choice would have been to take part in a match race, we're content to settle for a two-hour harbour sail. Our sailboat back in Alberta is a mere 23 feet and has never been out of fresh water, so we're immediately humbled -and awed.

When it's our turn, we get a good upper-body workout as "grinders," winding the winches in pairs to either raise or lower the sails. When sailing upwind, the loads are staggering -roughly four tonnes on the foresail sheet and up to six tonnes on the main -and we toil furiously to keep pace with the changing sail settings. Something brings to mind past yoga lessons and the admonition, "Don't forget to breathe." Mother Nature, of course, has the breathing part down pat, turning on a stiff breeze as we sail directly beneath the Auckland Bridge. At one point, we're even given the chance to take the helm for a few minutes.

Our sailing time, like our trip in general, flies by all too rapidly, leaving us with a long list of new destinations and places we'd like to revisit the next time. And there will definitely be a next time.

Karen Booth is copy desk chief at The Edmonton Journal.

IF YOU GO

Getting there: Both Air Canada and Air New Zealand fly non-stop from Vancouver to Auckland, which is the hub for domestic flights. Canadians require only a passport, not a visa, to enter the country.

When to go: As with Australia, the seasons are opposite to ours. So if you're keen to ski on the South Island, plan your visit for June through September. Summer is December through March. The country has no snakes or dangerous wild animals, making it safe to enjoy outdoor activities.

Why go in 2011: New Zealand plays host to the Rugby Union World Cup in various locations in September and October. Even if you're not much of a sports fan, check out a game involving New Zealand's All Blacks, if only to take in the pre-game haka, the traditional dance of the Maori, in all its foot-stomping, eye-bulging, tonguepoking glory.

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